She wasn’t above bargaining. “One of the women can watch me, if you’re that worried I’ll try something. I’m sure Veda wouldn’t mind.”
“The women are busy.”
He sat down in a chair, leaning back, a smug look on his face. He was asserting his power over her, expecting her to back down. Well, she wasn’t going to let him win. He wanted to watch? Then she’d give him a show. Now that she had it in her mind, she wanted a bath more than anything. She could practically feel the grime on her skin and it was starting to make her itch.
“Fine. Have them bring the water.”
Brideifelt the slightest twinge of panic rising in his chest. He should have known this fierce lass would call his bluff. Apparently either her desire to bathe or her desire to see her demands met was strong enough to overcome the unusual modesty he had witnessed earlier. His budding respect for her rose just a little, but now he’d have to sit and watch while she stripped off her clothing and washed her body. It was going to kill him, he knew. Already he was hard as stone and his blood was throbbing deep in his veins. Had she been any other woman, he would have been fine, but this woman brought out something raw and primal in him that he didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to control. Lack of control over anything angered him, and so he was more determined than ever to overcome this strange sexual obsession he had with her. He would watch her, and soon he would see that she was a woman like any other, with nothing so different or otherworldly under her clothing.
A half an hour later, the tub was filled with hot water and a fire was lit in the hearth to warm the room, and Bridei removed the ropes that held Nessa captive. She stood up, scowling at him as she rubbed her wrists. He gave her a cocky half smile.
“Your bath awaits, Ashta.”
Ashta. The word meant ‘little fierce one’, like a stalking kitten or a stinging wasp. It fit her perfectly, he thought. She was small and looked so fragile and delicate, but she was no timid little thing. She glared at him defiantly as she reached for the hem of her tunic. It slid slowly up her thighs, and he barely resisted the urge to lick his lips in anticipation. Instead he carefully schooled his features into what he hoped was a look of mild boredom. There was no way he was going to let her know she affected him in any way.
Her hips swayed as she pulled the cloth over them, turning her back to him at the same time. His first sight of her behind had his heart stuttering. He gritted his teeth. She lifted the tunic over her head at last, revealing the long, toned muscles of her back, tapering to a tiny waist and full hips. He felt every rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. Had he thought her just another woman? No, she was perfect; made in the very image of his every masculine fantasy, as if the gods had taken the image from his mind and made it flesh.
She stepped into the tub and sank beneath the water with a sigh, taking away his glorious view of her body.
Bridei dug his fingers into the cold, hard, wood of his chair, desperately trying to keep himself from standing up and going to her; that lush and untamed woman whose body called to his in a way that bordered on madness. The way she moved, her exotic beauty, the way she smelled when he got close enough to scent her. It had all become an unwelcome preoccupation. Yet he couldn’t look away. Hehadto watch her. He could almost feel the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips, muscles flexing as he touched her, nipples hardening as his bare chest slid over them. And then. And then… he could almost feel the close, wet, warmth around his cock as he slowly pushed into her. Her body would grip him tight, and maybe, just maybe, it would be the way he had heard it could be when a man finds his perfect match in a woman. Ecstasy.
Holding back a groan, Bridei stood from the chair where he had been seated and walked to the side of the tub. She looked up at him with wide eyes, waiting to see what he would do. As if he couldn’t stop himself, he took her small hand and placed it firmly on the bulge at the front of his pants. She gasped and looked away, a flush of red rushing up to stain her cheeks.
“A good show, lass.” He gave her a wicked smile to hide his own weakness, then turned and left the room, closing and bolting the door behind him, despite his promise to watch her bathe. He had to leave. He was losing control. His every instinct had been screaming at him to take her, whether she willed it or not, as if there was no other thing more important, now or ever. Every muscle in his body had been tensed from the moment she began lifting her tunic, wanting desperately to leap from his chair and pounce on her. Throw her onto the bed. Claim her with his body. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the strange madness of desire threatening to overtake him.
He leaned against the cool stone wall outside his chamber, pulling air deep into his lungs in an effort to calm his racing heart. He could not be at war with himself over her when he was at war with his enemy. He had had his fun today, but now it was time to call upon all of his strength and put such thoughts out of his mind for good.
His fingers locked around the amulet hanging from his neck. Set within it was a smooth stone Domech had handed him on the day he had become King. It was meant to remind him always of that day, and of the power and responsibility that was his. He used it now to draw strength.My ambitions are all that is important to me. No woman is worth this Kingdom. If I give in, and she is an enemy, I will lose everything I have worked so hard for…
Fortriu 672
He stood on the great ledge of stone, looking down at the thousands of people assembled before him. They, too, were ready for change, and they had put their faith solidly in him. The heavy responsibility sank down into his chest for a moment, before rising like a swift river to the surface and filling him with fire and determination. He had been born for this. He raised a fist in the air and shouted, and his people shouted back, the noise echoing in the small valley and serving only to raise the fever pitch of excitement radiating from the crowd. It was time. Without looking away from the people below, he motioned to the two warriors behind him with an imperious flick of his wrist. They stepped forward, a bound man between them. Bridei pulled a long knife slowly from the sheath at his side and held it up. The crowd roared in approval. The bound man glared down at them, still defiant, determined to die with any dignity still left to him.
“Death to you all! As I die, so shall you!” the doomed man shouted. One of the guards kicked him in the shin.
“Traitor!” came the calls from below. “You are no true king! Kill him! Do it now!” The people wanted blood for the blood of those that had fallen to the Saxons. They would be satisfied with nothing less.
Bridei put his blade to Drest’s throat, and with a firm pressure, pulled it across. He could feel it slice thickly into the flesh until it hit the harder tissue and bone beneath. Blood spurted like a fountain, draining life, anointing him now with the mantle of power. As the guards let go of his arms, the former king fell to his knees, the last of his life flowing out from the gaping wound. The crowd roared once more. A chant began, softly at first, then louder, until at last it became deafening. They called his name. Him. A heady mandate to rule.
“Bri-dye! Bri-dye!”
He waited until all eyes were on him, then he stepped forward, lifting each leg high and making a show of stepping into the footprints carved into the stone of the ledge. His own grandfather, Nechtan, had stood in this same place many years before, but now it was his turn. He would not let his people down. He would be brutal in his campaign to win back their lands and their freedom. He would not stop nor lose focus until it was done. Then, on that day and not one hour before, he would rest. He was very young to be King, only twenty years in a culture that valued age and experience above all else in its leaders. He knew he would have to prove himself again and again. And looking down at the body at his feet, he also knew what would happen if he failed.
That evening, there was a celebration, with fires all around, and music and dancing well into the night.
He spoke to the leaders among his men.
“They understand violence. They follow strength. It’s the only way to unite our people against the Saxons. If we do nothing, Pictland is lost. We are lost. We lay siege to Dunnottar, and when the chief bows to his King once more, we go north to Orkney. Without a united front, we will be a Northumbrian slave state forever.”
Nessa twisted herself around the wooden pole until finally she could reach the small blade she had slipped into the pocket of her tunic. After Bridei had left her alone in the bath, she had noticed it just lying there, next to a wooden comb and some strips of leather. It was probably the blade he shaved himself with, but he had apparently forgotten it was there. She had wasted no time hiding it when she dressed in the clean clothing left for her, her heart beating fast and furious. This was the first opportunity she’d had to escape, and now that it had come she was terrified. When Namet came later with her dinner, she could barely swallow it, and when he tied her hands for the night, she was sure her nerves would give her away. But if Namet felt the slight tremble of her hands as he tied them, he didn’t let on.
Now she was alone, and she carefully let the knife slip down her sleeve and into her hand, ready to slice at the ropes. It was a huge risk, of course. Though the hall below was quiet, she might not even get out of the broch before she was caught. Or the door to the room might be locked from the outside, though she hadn’t heard the bolt slide home when Namet left. She could end up far worse off than she was now, but what if she never had another chance? What if someone found the blade tomorrow before she could use it? She was getting desperate to find Angus, and she thought maybe, just maybe, he was frightened and would come out of hiding if she called to him.Ifhe was even hiding. It was a long shot, but what other choice did she have?
Before she could change her mind, she drew the blade across the rope. Luckily the knife was sharp and cut easily, and within a minute or two she was free. After listening for several moments at the door and hearing nothing, she lifted the latch and pushed gently. It wasn’t locked. Holding her breath so that she wouldn’t make the slightest sound, she crept into the hall. If she could make it a little more than halfway down the stairs without being seen, there was a narrow window she could slide out of before anyone in the hall would see her.
This was it. If she didn’t find Angus before morning, she would go to the well. She no longer had a choice. If she made it, and the door to her time was still open somehow, then this would be the last she saw of this place, and the last she saw of Bridei. She was more than a little afraid that she had already seen the last of her uncle.
Bridei dried the sweat from his brow with a rag before using it to wipe down his sword. He often spent his evenings in front of the fire, sharpening and honing his weapon until it shone. Until it could slice through flesh as readily as slide through air. A good weapon, after all, was a man’s life-blood.
